Sermons and Reflections from an Episcopal Priest
Maclay Gardens/Wakulla Springs/Lichgate Park – Tallahassee, FL
Even though I just invested in a nice digital camera, I still love the feel of film. I guess, in part, it’s because it does the color editing for you, and what you get is perfect imperfection. I also like the warmth and overexposure it provides to summer adventures, adding an additional sensory layer to the image, conveying what you felt when you were out on a hot day exploring.
We move in a week.
Daniel and I both feel a sort of stagnant anxiety. The move is inevitable. It is approaching quickly. We have a lot to do.
I’ve lived in Florida for almost 14 years – that’s most of my life. I never didn’t like it, but I’ve grown to love it – particularly its nature – passionately, especially within the past few years. There is so much beauty here. A hummingbird just came to our porch! A baby manatee was less than 5 feet away from me at Wakulla Springs yesterday. I used to see otters play in the lake by our house. Tallahassee is full of quiet canopy roads and hidden parks. The Florida Caverns are some of the most ornate caves in the United States. Torreya State Park boasts a view that makes you feel like you’re in the foothills of a mountain range.
I have always felt most at peace when I look out to appreciate natural beauty. I know Charlottesville has it, too, and it will probably overwhelm me. The beauty of Tallahassee and of Florida in general have served as a daily reminder that I am blessed, that the world holds wonder still.
Tallahassee has changed me more than any other location, mostly because it held my growing-up years. I was just reflecting with a friend that when you go off to college you don’t realize, at least not on an emotional level, that you will never return to home life as it was. Tallahassee became more than just the place I attended college, it became my home. I’ve lived here 5 years. Within that time, I lived alone for the first time, navigated classes and roads, led student organizations, lost and made friends, lost faith and gained it, had my first kiss, cried deeply, laughed heartily, got married, rented an apartment, graduated, saw my friends fall in love, worked odd jobs, learned custom framing, and experienced the heaviness of post-grad life. I was challenged. I failed and succeeded. I learned compassion and forgiveness and pain. These have been hard years and wonderful years.
A quiet excitement is beginning to surface. I never intended to spend my whole life here. If I’m going to move, I’m glad it’s Charlottesville, a place consistently rated as one of the best places to live in the United States. I’m happy to live near the Blue Ridge mountains. I’m happy that Daniel and I get to go together. I’m happy for another starting-over point – a time for reinvention and introspection and speculation about things to come.
I think we need to be woken up by landmark life changes. I needed to know that the move was coming to realize how much I have, and how much I’ll miss. In the past few months, I have finally gotten around to re-visiting people and places I love, to exploring places I hadn’t yet worked up the energy to visit. I’m grateful for the deadline that tells me I only have a few more moments to squeeze out what Florida has to offer.
I’m happy that amid the chaos of packing and uncertainty and early 20s crisis, I can find so many things to be happy about.
Untitled from Lindsey Vinson on Vimeo.
Daniel and I got married just over 2 years ago. I wrote a much lengthier anniversary post over at my old blog, someone’s water lily, but I forgot to share my favorite collection of images! Our wedding photographer, Lindsey Pemberton, made a stop-motion style video using photographs she captured throughout the course of the day. I didn’t know it would come together so beautifully and I never tire of watching it or sharing it.
Sometimes – oftentimes – when something terrible happens, I don’t even know how to talk about it. Sometimes there’s nothing to say that would add to the conversation or dry up any tears. Sometimes I try not to think about the truly horrible things at all because there is no narrative that will make sense of a broken world or broken people.
But we’ve already begun telling stories: Maybe the act was symbolic. Maybe his parents knew he was mentally unstable and did nothing to help him.
I’m reminded of what Tim O’Brien says about war stories:
“A true war story is never moral. It does not instruct, nor encourage virtue, nor suggest models of proper human behavior, nor restrain men from doing the things men have always done. If a story seems moral, do not believe it.”
I understand, of course, that the man who opened fire on theater-goers in Colorado is not a soldier in the midst of war. But I think that narrative in general functions powerfully to wrap up and make sense of things that don’t make sense at all. Once we can justify his behavior, we can point fingers at whoever let him go unchecked for so long. We can turn away from tragedy. We can turn to anger and self righteousness and indignation. Once we know the story, edited and tied up with a string, we can move on from collective grief and get on with our lives.
Sometimes there isn’t an answer. Sometimes the narratives we construct are lies we tell ourselves so that we can sleep at night.
(I understand that it isn’t feasible to quit telling stories, to altogether quit constructing narratives. They’re part of human nature, and they bring joy and closure to our lives. We need them to look back and move forward. But when we tell stories, we need to be clear about the implications, always erring on the side of honesty even if our narrative becomes a bit muddied. When millions of individuals and thousands of cultures are telling their own narratives, there is going to be confusion – there is going to be inconsistency and overlap. When we tell “true” stories, we have to do our best to convey all information, even when it’s hard. We also have to understand that “sense” is a construct. Life is not obligated to make sense.)
I plan to redesign my bedroom right after the move in comforting shades of gray, yellow, and robin’s egg blue. There will be a lot of DIY involved, as I don’t have the funds to go out and buy new home goods.
Projects for this room makeover include:
(all etsy – sources available here)
“We must be willing to get rid of the life we’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us. The old skin has to be shed before the new one can come.”
– Joseph Campbell
I’m starting fresh with a new lifestyle blog. I hope to share what I’m up to in my new home in Virginia. Thanks for reading.
Leah Wise 